Crumpled Wedding Flowers
by peyote-angels
Summary: They spent a lot of time in her car. She still has his 'Brand New' CD and her seats smell faintly like cigarette smoke.


Title: Crumpled Wedding Flowers.

Summary: They spent a lot of time in her car. She still has his 'Brand New' CD and her seats smell faintly like cigarette smoke.

Author's Note: I wrote this like, last summer. I posted it on Livejournal, but not on here. So yeah. Another Ryan/Pam. Takes place after Cafe Disco. Enjoy.

* * *

The cold air feels refreshing on her skin, the sweat along her hairline feeling cool. She sighs, flattening down her dress, fixing her hair.

Cafe Disco. Its just so Michael. It reminds her of the Michael Scott Paper  
Company.

And that reminds her of Ryan. She didn't see him much inside. It doesn't surprise her because he told her this one time when she was driving him to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting that he hated the Y-M-C-A song. And the dance. And then it came on the radio and she made him listen to it with her.

This makes her laugh a little and she's glad Jim isn't here because then she'd have to explain, explain Ryan.

And God, that was so impossible.

He appears out of nowhere, so suddenly, it scares her. She sees the end of his cigarettes burning bright, hears of squeaking of his ratty old bowling shoes. The laces are always untied and she remembers him tripping around the closet/office all the time.

She remembers the time he nearly shattered his elbow on Michael's desk and she had to drive him to the ER to get a sling.

They spent a lot of time in her car. She still has his 'Brand New' CD and her seats smell faintly like cigarette smoke.

"Are you, like, high?"

She blinks. "Huh?"

He's sitting on the ground next to her, giving her an odd look.

"No, no, I'm... Sorry. What are you doing out here?"

He shrugs, bringing the cigarette to his mouth and inhaling. "Smoking."

She fidgets, the smoke drifting around them. It's been a while since she smelled secondhand smoke. "I see that."

"What are you doing?" he asks, glancing over at her

"Sitting."

He nods knowingly. "Ah." Takes a hit. "Looks like you're getting married," he says as he exhales again, nodding towards the flowers that lay limp next to her.

"Oh... Hm, yeah." She wraps her fingers around the stems, placing the bouquet on her lap. "Well, I was, but I decided that I wanted a real wedding. At a chapel. Not a courthouse."

He gives a dry laugh. "Yeah, courthouses are no fun."

"Yeah."

It's quiet, like the quiet moment they used to share in the car when he'd finish a meeting. He was always embarrassed and never talked about what happened in the church basement.

She kind of wishes he had, though.

"You really gunna marry Halpert?" he asks gruffly, stepping down on the finished cigarette butt.

"Wh- yeah. Obviously." She lifts her left hand, the diamond glinting underneath the street light.

He stares at it, then at her. He doesn't look away.

"Ryan, don't do that," she says quietly, looking down.

"Do what?" he asks mockingly, finally turning his gaze forward.

She hates that stupid smirk on his lips

"Just because you don't want to get married doesn't mean it's wrong for me to want to," she says, her voice low.

"I didn't say that," he snaps. "Just... why do you have to marry _Halpert_?"

This time, she's staring at him.

"Because I love him," she says bluntly.

And he looks up at the sky, blinking.

"Wait. Are you... jealous?"

His eyes snap back onto her. "No," he says defiantly. "I don't... what's so great about fuckin' Halpert?" he mutters.

"Ryan..."

He glares at her. "Don't say it."

She smiles weakly. "Ryan, it's ok. You're going to find someone, too."

He looks at her incredulously. "I don't want anyone..." He tugs furiously at his hair. "Dammit, Pam!"

And he looks at her, his eyes suddenly softening, and her heart flutters. Then his mouth is on her, warm and soft, tasting like cigarettes and the Stride gum he's obsessed with. His fingers, so thin and cold, press into the back of her neck and Jesus, he's killing her.

As soon as it starts, it stops.

"Just... Halpert's a... fucktard, all right?" He stands up slowly, shoving his hands into his khaki's. "He's a fucking fucktard."

"A fucking fucktard," she repeats slowly and she sees his mouth twitch.

"Yeah," he says and even in the dark, his eyes shine slightly. "Yeah."

And then he turns around and she watches him go, her wedding flowers crumpled in her lap.


End file.
